Attending ex-girlfriend's wedding, arresting the groom's officer on the spot

“We found the owner of the recycling station, and he said that under the dark blue paint on the fragments, there was a layer of red primer—Zheng Qiang’s truck was pure blue and had never been painted red.” Wang Shuai suddenly remembered something and pulled out Zheng Qiang’s rear-end collision record from last year. The tricycle of Liu Laosi in the accident photo was red, and the registration information showed that he had just repainted it blue in March of this year.

"Do you know how to tie a fisherman's knot?" Wang Shuai suddenly asked. Liu Laosi's fingers paused, then he picked up the rope on the table and demonstrated. The knot he tied was loose and crooked, completely different from the fisherman's knot found at the scene. "I learned it when I was young in the fishing port," he smiled embarrassedly, "but I'm old and my memory is bad, I've forgotten it all." Zhang Kai's supplementary assessment also came over: "The knot of the hemp rope at the scene has special fingerprint patterns that do not match Liu Laosi's fingerprints. Moreover, tying knots requires years of practice to master, and Liu Laosi's knuckles are severely deformed, so he does not have this skill."

The investigation is ongoing. Wang Shuai retrieved Liu Laosi's call records. Between 8 PM and midnight on May 15th, he had three calls with Zhang Laowu, lasting 2 minutes and 15 seconds, 1 minute and 30 seconds, and 45 seconds respectively. The cell tower location in all three calls was near the fishpond. Zhang Laowu's interrogation record also confirmed this: "We drank until almost midnight. Lao Liu said he had a stomachache and lay in the shack until dawn before leaving. He has chronic leg pain and can't walk far."

The most crucial evidence came from Zheng Qiang's truck. The technical department found an unfamiliar fingerprint under the floor mat in the cab, which did not match Liu Laosi's at all; there was a half-smoked Yellow Crane Tower cigarette butt in the ashtray in the passenger seat, while Liu Laosi only smoked Hongtashan cigarettes; more importantly, the truck's dashcam automatically saved the last video after the accident—at 8:45 pm on May 15, Zheng Qiang stopped by the roadside to make a phone call, and the camera captured a young man in dark blue overalls walking out of the cornfield next to him and knocking on the driver's side window.

“This man is not Liu Laosi,” Wang Shuai zoomed in on the video screenshot. “He is at least 175 cm tall, with a strong build, and walks with his toes pointing outwards, which is completely opposite to the inward-pointing characteristics of the footprints at the scene.” He suddenly remembered Yang Lin’s on-site investigation report. There were two signs of the fallen cornfield. One was formed by dragging the body, and the other was a fresh trampling mark with a stride length of 75 cm, which was significantly longer than Liu Laosi’s stride length.

When Wang Shuai presented Liu Laosi with evidence including surveillance video, fingerprint comparison, and paint analysis, the old man suddenly burst into tears, cloudy tears streaming down his wrinkles. "Actually... I've seen Zheng Qiang," his voice choked with emotion, "On the morning of May 16th, I saw his truck parked by the roadside, the driver's seat empty. I thought he'd gone to relieve himself..." He wiped his face, "I was afraid people would say I was involved with him, so I didn't dare say anything, and I even scraped off the paint from the truck bed..."

By the time Liu Laosi was cleared of suspicion, it was already dusk. Wang Shuai stood by the window of the interrogation room, watching the streetlights gradually illuminate the scene outside, and suddenly remembered the unfamiliar footprints left in the cornfield. Dark blue overalls, the ability to tie fisherman's knots, a height of about 175 cm, smoking Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes… These fragments pieced together in his mind, gradually outlining the profile of another person. Meanwhile, Liu Laosi's tricycle was parked in front of the police station, the scrap in the back swaying gently in the evening breeze, as if telling the story of how this old man, unexpectedly caught up in the case, almost became a scapegoat in fear and panic.

Although the investigation ruled out Liu Laosi, new clues had emerged. Wang Shuai wrote in his notebook: "Focus on investigating young men around 175cm tall, wearing dark blue overalls, with truck driving experience, who have recently had contact with Zheng Qiang, in the vicinity of the fishing port." The sound of the pen scratching across the paper was particularly clear in the quiet corridor, as if sounding a new horn for the next stage of the investigation.

While Wang Shuai was conducting his investigation, Zhang Hui was also investigating normal interpersonal relationships.

Zhang Hui's pen poked ink dots into Zheng Qiang's interpersonal relationship diagram, marking dangerous nodes in this spiderweb-like network. The fluorescent lights in the office vibrated and shone brightly, making the words "arrogant and domineering" appear white—the most consistent assessment after interviewing seven coworkers and three neighbors. He flipped through Zheng Qiang's call logs; sixteen recordings of arguments from the past three months had been recovered by the technical department, nine of which contained profanity, the roaring from the receiver almost bursting through the pages.

“Master Zheng? He’s a living devil.” Old Wang from the logistics company’s dispatch room refilled his enamel mug with hot water, the steam blurring the scars on his face—scars left from the wrench Zheng Qiang threw at him last year. “Last month, the unloading was five minutes slow, and he overturned the whole box of oranges. Even the boss couldn’t do anything about it. His brother-in-law is a shareholder in the fishing port; who dares to mess with him?” Old Wang tapped his finger on the dispatch sheet. “Just last week, he and Boss Qin almost came to blows at the freight station because Boss Qin told him to wait half an hour for loading.”

Zhang Hui's gaze immediately locked onto the words "Boss Qin." This was the thirteenth person to have mentioned this name. As he drove towards Zheng Qiang's house, the peephole on the security door dimmed briefly, followed by the clanking sound of a chain being dragged. Zheng Qiang's wife, Wang Li, wore an apron stained with oil, her eyes swollen and red like two ripe cherries. The picture frame on the coffee table in the living room was upside down, revealing the whiter paint on the wall behind it.

“That guy…” Wang Li’s nails dug deeply into the sofa armrest, leaving crescent-shaped white marks. “He came back last Wednesday night with a band-aid on his nose, saying he got it from a fight with Qin Baosheng.” She got up and went to the bedroom to search, her slippers making a dragging sound on the floor. When she came back, she was holding a crumpled clinic receipt. “The doctor said he had a minor fracture in his nasal bone, but he insisted that he bumped into something by accident. I found this in his pocket.”

On the back of the receipt was a hastily written phone number ending in "7777". Zhang Hui checked it on his phone and found the account holder was Qin Baosheng – the owner of the Chengdong Shunda Freight Station. More importantly, the receipt showed the appointment time as 5 PM on May 13th, only two days before Zheng Qiang's death. "Why were they fighting?" Zhang Hui's pen hovered over his notebook. Wang Li suddenly raised her voice, spittle flying onto the fruit bowl on the coffee table: "It was all over stealing business! Qin Baosheng wanted to take over the cold chain route from the fishing port to Wangjiagou, and Zheng Qiang called him an ingrate, saying his brother-in-law got the route for him!"

The metal gate of Shunda Freight Station gleamed blindingly in the midday sun. Zhang Hui stood beside the scales, watching Qin Baosheng direct the workers loading goods. This man, around forty years old, wore a Lacoste leather belt, his gold rings gleaming in the sunlight, and the Rolex watch chain on his left wrist rattled with every wave of his hand—perfectly matching Zheng Qiang's description of him as "reeking of money" in the recorded phone conversation. (End of Chapter)